Compromises and Opportunity Costs
by Jessie Shockey
Summary: A very mild 13+4 blanket fic with a bit of 3+4 tossed in for good measure.


Compromises and Opportunity Costs  
By Jessie   
  
  
  
Treize shuddered as he pulled himself under the branches of a fallen tree. It wasn't the best cover he could ask for, but he knew that if he did not have some sort of shelter soon, he would freeze. The snow was falling heavily around him, covering everything in crystal white. Treize cursed it. With no visible trail to follow, it was unlikely that any of his men would be able to find him.   
  
/If they even come looking/ he thought, bitterly. It was all too probable that they would give up the search when they found the ruined remains of the caravan he had been traveling with. The gundam that had attacked them had not been merciful.   
  
With a little sigh, Treize leaned against one of the ice-encrusted branches, grateful only that it kept him above the snow. His greatest fear now was for his wounded leg...the shrapnel gash that crossed his right thigh was deep, and if it were unattended to, could grow even more serious. His ruined pants were frozen against his leg where his blood had cooled and iced around his wound. As uncomfortable as this was, it served as a makeshift bandage, keeping his life from leaking out onto the snow. Looking back the way he came, he could spy the faint arc of red dots that was the only sign of his passage.   
  
"I'm going to die here." He whispered, and bowed his head.   
  
There was a great booming crash as a tree somewhere to the west snapped under the weight of the ice on its boughs. Almost covered by the mighty sound, but still audible, Treize heard a voice cry out in startlement. His head snapped up and he pulled himself to his knees, peering out of his makeshift shelter and into the snowy white beyond.   
  
It took a moment for his eyes to distinguish the boy from the scene around him. He was pale, nearly as pale as the snow, and his clothing was all in light pastels. Even his hair, a bright white gold, seemed to blend in with the gleaming ice that covered everything in sight.   
  
He had toppled in the snow when the tree snapped, apparently caught off guard by the booming sound. He righted himself quickly, though, pulling himself to his feet and dusting the white powder from his body. He had walked a few feet away from Treize before he paused, glancing down at the ground. He crouched, touching the snow, and then turned to stare directly at Treize through the branches that shielded him from the snow.   
  
Treize allowed himself a small sigh as the boy approached him. He had been found. With any luck, this boy would be kind enough to open his family's home long enough for him to get warm and use their phone. "Hello," He called in Russian as the boy neared him. Good thing he had a rudimentary knowledge of the local language.   
  
Without speaking, the boy raised a gleaming silver pistol and aimed it expertly at Treize's head.   
Treize gulped. This was...not...a pleasant situation to be in.   
  
"Treize Khushrenada," The boy said in wonder. "What in the world are you doing here?"   
  
Now Treize blinked. He spoke Russian well...but there was a heavy accent to it. This boy was no native. "I'm...lost." He finally answered. "My convoy was attacked..."   
  
The boy smiled and nodded, but he wasn't looking at Treize any longer. Instead, his thoughts seemed to turn inward. "I wonder if he knew...?" He murmured to himself in Universal. Shaking his head as if to clear it, the boy crouched down and grabbed him by his wounded leg.   
  
"Ow! What are you doing?" Treize demanded.   
  
"Examining your wound. Would you rather die in the snow?" When Treize shook his head in the negative, the boy smiled and stood, once again dusting himself off until his clothing was spotless. His clothes didn't seem to offer any real protection from the cold and damp, but he did not seem bothered in the least. "You can walk." The boy announced. "Good. I didn't want to have to carry you."   
  
/Walk...?/ "Where am I walking to?" Treize asked, a little skeptically.   
  
"Stand up," the boy ordered, raising the gun to his level again. "And walk slowly forward, hands out to your sides."   
  
Treize carefully climbed out from under the branches and pulled himself to his feet, wincing as the muscles in his leg protested.   
  
"Good. Now, give me your hands." When Treize held them out, palms up, they were quickly captured, and he felt the sting of cold metal as a pair of handcuffs snapped closed around his wrists. "Start walking," The boy ordered. "Don't rush. You'll open that wound again if you aren't careful. Start moving North."   
  
"My base is to the South," Treize objected.   
  
The blond boy smirked and gave his shoulder a little push to get him moving in the proper direction. "Not anymore."   
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
They walked for perhaps a quarter of an hour before they came to a small wooden cabin on a hillside. The boy walked ahead as they reached it, scanning the perimeter with practiced ease.   
  
"So young to be a soldier..." Treize murmured to himself in his native German.   
  
"Not so young," The boy called back over his shoulder. "Do you plan to keep switching languages, or can we just pick one and stay with it?" Without really waiting for a response, he tromped back through the snow to the door of the cabin, carefully opening it and peering inside. "Well," He said after a long while. "After you, sir." He flashed a bright grin at Treize and gave a polite little bow. "You are my guest, after all."   
  
Treize bowed his head and walked forward into the cabin. Once inside, he could feel an immediate difference. It was no warmer...not really, but it was dry inside, and the biting wind was gone.   
Treize examined the single room. There was a fireplace against one wall, well stocked with chopped wood, and a small table against the other with a crate set upon it. Several wooden chairs sat scattered about the room. "Can I sit?" He asked as he heard the boy shut the door behind them with a click.   
  
"Please. I need to get a better look at your leg."   
  
Treize settled into one of the chairs near the fireplace and watched with interest as the boy struggled to get a little blaze started. Once he was finally done, he stood and grabbed another chair, pulling it to rest at Treize's side. He sat down and moved Treize's hands out of his lap, using a small, sharp knife to slice away the material around his wound. "Shrapnel?" He asked, prodding it gently.   
  
"Yes."   
  
The boy nodded. "Hot metal. It all but cauterized itself. You should be just fine. There's only a little muscle damage, and it missed the artery."   
  
Treize allowed his eyes to drift shut as the boy's gentle hands continued to move on his thigh, brushing away some of the caked, dried blood. "You work with the gundam pilots," Treize ventured.   
He heard a soft chuckle and opened his eyes to find the boy smiling at him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You could say that."   
  
"Were you a part of the attack on my convoy?"   
  
The boy shook his head. "I was busy blowing up the Kiev base at the time," he told him. He stood and walked over to the table, digging around in the crate for a little while, emptying its contents onto the tabletop. He picked up a little kettle and carried it with him towards the door. "Be good," He called back to Treize, "And I'll let you have some tea."   
  
A gundam pilot. The boy was a gundam pilot. Treize could feel his head spinning, and he wasn't sure how much of it was from his brush with hypothermia. He shouldn't really have been surprised, though. This pilot was probably about Wufei's age.   
  
Inwardly, he pondered the significance of this. 02 had been revealed to be young as well, when he was captured. As had 01. Perhaps the smaller body size and faster metabolism of teenagers had been the draw. Something like racing jockeys...chosen for their size just as much as their riding skills, in order to reduce the burden that the animal would be forced to bear.   
  
Less mass would cut down on centripetal acceleration in tight turns...He supposed it made sense. And the young pilots would heal quickly when injured...a teenager grew bone and skin at an alarming rate. He would have to speak with Milliardo about this.   
  
Pilot 03 or 04, whichever he might be, was very slender, almost underweight. Treize was quite frankly stunned that he was taking the cold so well. He himself was aching all over, so cold that his shivering had ceased some time ago. Carefully, he slid from the chair and stretched out before the fire, soaking up as much of the heat as he could.   
  
The door opened and the boy returned, holding the kettle out in front of him. Without a word, he settled down on the floor beside him and set it in the fire. Treize could see now that it was filled with snow. "Why haven't you killed me, yet?" He asked the boy. "There doesn't seem to be much of a point to keeping me alive."   
  
The boy looked down at him with wide, started eyes. "That's no reason to kill someone. Just because you don't need them."   
  
"I'm your enemy," Treize said, softly, inwardly wishing he hadn't. What was he doing? /Trying/ to get himself killed?   
  
"At the moment," The boy said softly. His eyes were kind now. "You are nothing more than an injured man I found in the snow. One that I do not entirely trust, which is why you are restrained."   
  
Treize smiled. "I see." He had not expected any of the pilots to be so...human. "Might I ask your name?"   
  
The boy did not answer. Instead, he took the kettle by the handle and carried it back towards the small table. Treize did not turn to watch him go - His strength was now too sapped to manage rolling over easily - but he could hear clinking sounds. A moment later. The boy returned with a bowl and a cloth. He crouched down beside Treize and dipped the rag into the bowl, then touched it to Treize's skin. Carefully, he washed away most of the dried blood. "You're going to have to help me," He said when he was mostly done. Without any more warning than that, he reached up and casually undid the fastenings of Treize's ruined trousers.   
  
"What-?" Treize exclaimed.   
  
"You'll have to raise up off the floor a little so I can get these off." He explained. Patiently, giving the pants a little tug.   
  
"/Why?/" Treize asked.   
  
"Because they're soaking wet and just about frozen on you, that's why." His eyes softened.   
"Please cooperate?"   
  
Treize gritted his teeth and lifted his hips. This was as embarrassing as it was painful. At least this boy did not seem the sort who would...take advantage of such a situation. He slid the pants down Treize's legs, careful to avoid his injured thigh. Once they had been removed and set aside, he started washing Treize's wound again, painstakingly cleaning all the dried blood away this time. The cloth was warm and his hands were gentle. Treize felt himself being drawn towards sleep, but he resisted.   
  
"Your shirt," The boy prompted, quietly. Obediently, Treize stripped off his jacket and his shirt, leaving himself dressed only in a rather undignified and tattered pair of boxers. "You were a little underdressed to be out in the snow like that," He said as he watched. "No long johns or anything?   
  
"I wasn't expecting to be traveling by foot," Treize grumbled. "And you aren't dressed much better, yourself."   
  
"I don't really get cold," The boy replied. "This was sufficient." With that, he stood and walked closer to the fire, spreading Treize's clothes out on the hearth to dry. He undressed himself quickly, stripping to his underwear as well, and lay his clothes beside Treize's uniform. "I'll get you a blanket," he said, starting towards the table.   
  
Treize was glad of that. With his wet clothes now gone, he had warmed up enough to start shivering again, though not very much. He scooted a little closer, until his cheek was almost touching the stones that made up the wide hearth.   
  
The boy returned and settled on the edge of the hearth, carefully placing to steaming mugs beside him. "One of those is for you," He told Treize as he handed him a somewhat ratty blanket. "And here..." He held up a small white packet. "Put this in and let it dissolve. It will dull the pain and let you sleep."   
  
Treize looked at the drug with some distrust.   
  
"If I were going to kill you, I wouldn't have taken the time to bring you back here and patch you up." The boy said reasonably. "If I were going to drug you, I would not have been so open about it."   
  
Treize pondered this for a moment before acknowledging the logic of that statement with a nod. He sat up with a bit of difficulty and covered himself with the blanket from the chest down. The boy handed him his mug and tore open the packet for him. "Half," he cautioned. "You'll probably need the rest, later."   
  
"What are you going to do with me?" He asked as he measured the powder out into his drink. The mug was warm and comforting in his hands. He stared into it, watching the drug dissolve as he waited for his captor to answer.   
  
"I don't know," He said after a long moment. "I suppose I should wait for the others to get here, so we can decide together."   
  
"The...other pilots?" He asked, quietly.   
  
"You're afraid." The boy murmured.   
  
/I must be slipping/ Treize thought. /Loosing control of my voice. How else would he know something like that?/ "05...Wufei will demand my death."   
  
"You know his name?" The boy asked, startled.   
  
"We've met." Treize said, dryly.   
  
"And you know him well enough to say that with certainty."   
  
Treize snorted. "What's to know? He told me he wants me dead. I can only assume that he meant it."   
  
The boy laughed quietly, surprising Treize. He slid off the edge of the hearth and settled beside him, pulling the edge of the blanket over himself. The two sat in silence for some time, drinking their tea. Treize could feel the hot liquid warming him from the inside out, and he was grateful. He had almost emptied his cup when the shaking started in earnest. The last few drops spilled out and onto his skin as his hands began to tremble. With a quiet curse, he set the cup down and pulled the blanket around himself.   
  
"Come here," The boy ordered. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look at him. His arms were open wide, and there was a kind look on his face. "You're shaking like a wet kitten."   
Treize protested half-heartedly as he was pulled into a tight embrace. He settled quickly into it, though. The boy's skin was nearly as warm as the mug hand been. He huddled against the boy's chest as he shaking grew more violent.   
  
"You were hypothermic," The boy said with a little wonder. "I should have known..."   
  
"I'm okay," Treize assured him. "Just c-c-cold."   
  
The boy sighed and drew him closer. "I shouldn't have given you the sedative."   
  
"I'll be okay," Treize assured him. His voice sounded so guilty and self-recriminating...he couldn't help but want to wash that tone from the gentle voice.   
  
"No...I-I'm supposed to be taking care of you," The boy murmured. He pressed the side of his face against the top of Treize's head.   
  
"You saved my life," Treize whispered. It was growing hard to speak...he could feel the drug beginning to take effect. "Anyone else would have shot me, or left me to die."   
  
He felt the boy shaking his head.   
  
"They would have." He repeated. "And I thank you for not doing the same."   
  
"I could never shoot a man in cold blood," he murmured.   
  
"I'm grateful for that. You have a kind heart. Too kind to be caught up in this war."   
  
The boy didn't answer right away. Treize felt himself beginning to drift into a warm, safe place as his shaking finally subsided. Finally, thought, the boy spoke, breaking the silence. "You owe me your life."   
  
Treize nodded.   
  
"Promise me you won't attack me, if I sleep."   
  
Treize smiled. The thought had never even crossed his mind. "I swear on my honor...you shall be unharmed. I doubt there is much I could have done to you, anyway, in such a state as this."   
The boy let out a relaxed sigh and settled against him. Together, they drifted toward slumber.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Treize felt something moving at his side and opened his eyes. The blond haired boy was sliding out from under the blanket.   
  
"Where are you going?" He asked. Cool air was seeping in through the raised edge of the blanket, and he was already missing the warmth of the boy's body.   
The boy didn't answer. Instead, he ran to the door, still in only his underpants, and flung it wide. Treize couldn't see what was going on for the door, but he heard a new and distinctive voice, soft and deliberate, speaking on the other side. "There you are," the quiet voice said, and Treize could hear the smile behind the words.   
  
"Where have you been?!" He heard his savior demand. "You were supposed to be here hours ago, and I was so worried!"   
  
"Are the others here yet?" The new voice asked.   
  
"No, but-" The voice was cut off. Treize held his breath, trying to determine what was going on behind the door by sound alone, but it was no use. The boys were silent now. After a long moment, there was a shuffling sound, and he heard his captor speaking quietly. "We aren't alone."   
The door swung shut, revealing a rather startled looking young man who had his hand on the blond boy's arm. He was a little taller than the other boy and was dressed more sensibly in a thick turtleneck sweater. His face was half hidden behind a curtain of hair, but his visible eye widened in surprise when he saw exactly who their visitor was. There was a long and awkward silence. The boy stared at him for a moment, and then looked back at his fellow pilot, who was standing beside him in his underwear.   
  
"I suppose my clothes are probably dry now..." He said sheepishly. Treize watched with fascination as a light blush started at his cheeks, traveling down to this chest and outward to turn his ears pink. He quickly crossed the room to the fireplace, taking care to stay as far away from Treize as he could and still reach the hearth. Treize was suddenly very aware of how very compromising their current situation seemed to be.   
  
Treize turned his eyes down as the boy dressed. It seemed a little silly...after all, he had already seen all that he was really capable of seeing. He pulled his bound hands out from under the covers to bring them into the other boy's sight. He had to stave off an uncharacteristic urge to giggle when he realized a pair of handcuffs weren't exactly going to make the scene less incriminating. Just kinkier.   
  
When he looked up again, the other boy was staring at him.   
  
"I found him in the woods," The blond boy explained. "He was wounded and hypothermic, so I brought him here."   
  
"You can't just keep picking up strays like this, little buddy," A new voice said. Funny...he hadn't even heard the door open. Then again, stealth did appear to be 02's specialty.   
  
The taller boy was glaring at 02 with mild annoyance. He turned without speaking and walked to the table at the far side of the room, settling against its edge.   
  
"Don't you want to get warmed up by the fire?" His rescuer asked.   
  
"Don't mind if I do," 02 said brightly. He plopped down beside Treize and pulled at the blanket in his lap. "What'cha got on under that thing?" He asked with a grin. Despite his fierce grip on the tattered blanket, 02 still managed to raise it enough to peek under. "Ha. Thought so. Really, pal, you should at least make sure they've had their shots before you-"   
  
"That's enough." 01 said from the door. 02 fell silent immediately. "What is he doing here?"   
  
"I found him," the blond boy explained patiently. "In the snow. So I brought him here."   
01 crossed the room to stand before Treize where he sat on the floor. "Wounded." He said. It wasn't a question, but his rescuer answered anyway.   
  
"Your attack wiped out the convoy he was traveling with. He was wounded by shrapnel, but attempted to reach the base by foot. When I found him, he was hypothermic."   
01 grunted. "Get dressed." He ordered.   
  
Treize stood slowly, carefully favoring his injured leg, and picked up his clothes from the hearth. This was humiliating...02 was grinning at him in a rather alarming manner...   
  
"Come on, guys," the blond boy chided quietly. "Give him a little privacy, for goodness sakes."   
One by one, all the pilots but 02 turned away and allowed him to dress.   
  
He cleared his throat once he had his pants on and fastened properly. The shirt was virtually ruined - He'd had to rip the sleeves to get it off, in the first place - So he did not bother with that.   
  
"Where's Wufei?" his rescuer asked. At the other boys' startled looks, he added, "He already knew his name."   
  
"Be patient," the taller boy told him. "He had the farthest to walk."   
  
"Not much more than He...01," he protested.   
  
"I see him," 02 said suddenly. "Boy, oh boy...I can't wait to see his reaction to this mess..."   
The blond boy hurried to the window and looked out into the snow. Treize could not see out of the window from where he stood, but he didn't think it wise to move. Both 01 and 02 looked like they were dying for an opportunity to splatter his brains on the cabin walls.   
  
The blond hurried over to the door and stepped outside, shutting it behind him. Treize could hear muffled voices through the thick wood, quiet at first. There was a sudden outburst.   
  
/Wufei.../   
  
The door was flung open and the Chinese boy stormed inside, eyes blazing. "No," He said hotly. "I will not stand for this."   
  
"Wufei..." the blond boy said, placatingly, as he stepped back into the cabin and shut the door behind them.   
  
"He is our /enemy/." Wufei snarled.   
  
"I say we take a vote." 02 said, brightly. "And since I say kill 'em, I suppose the deciding vote is up to you." He turned and looked meaningfully at 01, who closed his eyes in thought.   
  
"What about him?" Treize asked, pointing as best he could at the taller boy.   
  
A small smile slipped onto the quiet boy's face. "I trust Quatre's judgment," He said softly.   
  
/His name is Quatre...?/ Treize thought in wonder. /...Why is that name so achingly familiar...?/   
He turned to look his advocate. He was staring at the taller boy with undefined emotion sparking in his eyes.   
  
"I think," 01 began, "That we should keep him alive for the time being. Until we attempt our escape in the morning. He'll serve best as a hostage until then."   
  
Even Wufei seemed unable to argue with the logic of that statement. Treize turned his eyes again to Quatre, who was looking at the floor with a lost expression on his face. Suddenly, his eyes snapped up and met Treize's, a flicker of determination crossing his features. For a moment, Treize thought that he was going to protest the decision. But then the fire in his eyes subsided. "We should get some rest." He told the others. There was a defeated air to his voice.   
  
"Tie him to a chair," 01 ordered.   
  
Quatre nodded and walked towards him. "Please cooperate?" begged quietly.   
  
Treize nodded and sat where Quatre directed. He sat perfectly still as the boy unfastened his handcuffs and moved his arms behind his back. Then the handcuffs were back, the chain looped through one of the slats on the back of the chair. He could feel it grating against the wood when he twitched his wrists.   
  
Treize hung his head. Despite all Quatre's the efforts at keeping him alive, it seemed that his existence would be ended, anyway. He didn't move as he listened to the sounds the pilots made getting ready for bed.   
  
/Don't they eat?/ He wondered. Aside from the tea that Quatre had shared with him, he had seen none of the pilots eat or drink anything since they arrived. And none of them seemed to be at all cold, either.   
  
Oddly disconcerting, these children. Stronger than full-grown men and with endurance levels far beyond what he had ever seen. He would /really/ have to speak to Milliardo about this.   
  
But, no... He was never going to see Milliardo again.   
  
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
  
  
Treize had been drifting in and out of sleep all night, jerking awake every few hours when one body part or another would loose feeling. This time, it was his right arm. Carefully, he clasped his other hand around his wrist and massaged the feeling back into it, hissing a little at the pins and needles sensation.   
  
When he could comfortably wiggle his fingers again, he leaned back and relaxed into the uncomfortable chair as best he could. The five pilots wee lying all around the room, deep in sleep. 01 lay near the door, flat on his back, his posture almost to rigid for Treize to believe he was asleep. 02 lay on top of the table, one leg and his long braid trailing to the floor, one arm thrown carelessly over his eyes. He was snoring, softly. Wufei was settled on the hearth. He had fallen asleep sitting up, leaning against the wall.   
  
Quatre and the tall boy were more towards the center of the room, curled up together on the floor and covered by the same ratty blanket that he had shared with Treize the last time they had slept. As he watched, the blond slid out from under the other boy's arm and lifted the blanket to rise. He grumbled in protest and tried to pull him back.   
  
"Sh..." Quatre murmured. He leaned close and pressed a kiss to the other boy's temple. "I'll be right back. I just have to go..." He trailed off with a blush, and Treize could see the other boy smile as he relinquished his hold.   
  
Treize watched as Quatre stood and slipped on his shoes before disappearing out the door and into the night.   
  
He had dozed off again by the time the boy returned, slipping silently back into the quiet room. He stood frozen by the door for a long while, listening with his head cocked to the sounds of the other's breathing. After a moment, he crept cautiously to Treize's side. "Wake up" He whispered, his voice barely more than a breath in Treize's ear.   
  
Treize's eyes drifted open. It took them a moment to focus on the boy before him, but when he did, he noticed the frantic look on his face.   
  
Quatre crouched at his side and pressed something cold into his hand. It took his half-numb fingers far longer than it should have to identify the item.   
  
A bit of wire.   
  
He felt a tug at the waistband of his pants and looked down. Quatre ripped a few inches of the material along the seam. "If you're caught," he breathed in that same barely audible whisper, "Tell them you had it hidden in the waistband."   
  
Treize nodded, dully. Why was this boy helping him, so? His enemy, and yet...and yet this was twice the boy had saved his life. He started to thank him, but Quatre's fingers were suddenly against his lips.   
  
"Promise me...swear to me, that you will try your best to give us an opportunity to escape. Direct the searching elsewhere. Tell them you saw us in the woods, or something. Please?"   
  
Treize nodded.   
  
Quatre smiled and stood again, making his way quietly back to his makeshift bed on the floor. Treize watched in silence as he slid back underneath the blanket and snuggled against the dark haired boy again.   
  
Something in the scene tore at him...the idea that Quatre, so sweet and kind, who had just risked only God knows how much for a chance that he himself might escape, was so happily ensconced in the arms of another.   
  
Another...A boy who had, mere hours ago, spoken his unhalting trust in his young lover.   
That was the real reason his heart was clenching in his chest. Quatre had deceived that trust in an effort to save his miserable life. He felt like he had defiled something good and pure, smeared his bloodstained hands across its pristine surface and left the dark stains of his soul behind.   
  
And he'd never even touched the boy.   
  
For a moment, Treize contemplated just going back to sleep and waiting to see what the morning would bring. But no... Quatre had made his choice, and he had made a promise. He had a duty to fulfill: Distract his own men and lead the search for the pilots astray.   
  
He owed it to Quatre to do as he had asked.   
  
He waited until he could be sure that Quatre was asleep again, and then he started on the lock. Each tiny click rang frighteningly lout upon his ears in the silence. Working carefully, cautiously, deliberately, he tripped the mechanism inside the lock, wincing inwardly as the tumblers chinked and slid into place.   
  
Once his right hand was free, it was easier. He was able to bring his arms around to the front where he could see what he was doing. And then, the cuffs were off, and he was free.   
  
Treize crept silently to the hearth, picking up his tattered shirt and jacket and wrapping them about his shoulders. He had to lean over Wufei's sleeping form to reach his boots, but the idea of braving the long, cold walk back to the base without them was utterly ridiculous. He decided to put them on outside, rather than risk the sound they would make against the hardwood floor.   
As quietly as he could, Treize crept to the door and slipped out into the night.   
  
  
*END* 


End file.
